


Bad Dog Interlude - A Dark Legends Chapter 8 Story

by Tarchannon



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: AU, BDSM, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-04-10
Packaged: 2017-11-03 09:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarchannon/pseuds/Tarchannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A plague visits the House of Xavier bringing death and dark changes. Charles steps in when Jean goes too far in disciplining Logan. Occurs as an interlude between the Scott/Logan/Jean scene and the Remy/Logan scene of Bad Dog by x-tricks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Dog Interlude - A Dark Legends Chapter 8 Story

**Author's Note:**

> 1) “_” contains spoken dialog, /_/ contains thoughts, *_* contains mental communication  
> 2) Originally posted: 07/05/2002.

Jean raised the crop one final time, drawing it back, enhancing it with her mind, a blow mean to end his insolence.

Suddenly everything stopped and she cocked her head as if listening. She could feel the probe, the tiny pressure at the base of her skull. The finest tip, a slim finger seeking access to a mental orifice, a transparent psionic worm wriggling into the cracks of her shields. 

With a mere flick of the mind, she snapped shut the gap between the plates of her mental armor, nipping off the invading tip. She grinned a terrible grin, her vacant eyes glowing with malicious glee. Her arm dropped, her attention pulled away from the bloody men at her feet. She began to trace back the source of the invasion, furious anyone would attempt to attack her.

That's when she felt the others. Not one, not ten, but dozens of insidious tendrils sliding across the surface of her mind, finding the gaps, leaving horrible sticky trails that she could actually feel in her skull.

She started to slam shut her defenses, to close the gaps that protected her from attack but still allowed her mind to 'breathe'. She viciously slammed them pair by pair, snapping the resistant worms one by one. For an instant, she thought she had a chance.

Scott had quietly slid over toward Logan, who had collapsed on the floor. He was bleeding profusely, and had gone limp. Scott cradled the other man's head in his lap, tears dripping on his face and clearing tiny trails in the blood that had run from his damaged eye. Scott cowered at her feet, doing his best to protect the Canadian from her rage. He shivered in anticipation of the blow, as he heard her whisper, "No!"

The worms crawling over and into Jean's mind multiplied like the heads of the hydra as she snipped them off at an incredible pace. The riding crop dropped from her nerveless fingers as she threw all of her mind against the attack. 

Scott couldn't believe it when the blow never came, and when the leather switch dropped to the floor beside him. Jean was whimpering, and he found the courage to glance up at his wife. Jean, this twisted mockery of the Jean he once knew, towered above him clutching her head like it was about to explode.

"Get out, get out, get out!," she screamed at the top of her lungs, and the room exploded outward, windows shattering like a bomb had gone off. Instinctively, Scott dropped down, protecting his wounded friend's head.

"No! No! No!" Jean tore her fingers through her ratted hair. The transparent slugs were swelling and surging, ripping her defenses apart shell by shell. She rose into the air as she struggled, screaming.

Afraid of what he knew might happen next, Scott glanced toward the door, gauging the distance. Dipping into the last pool of courage he could find, he started dragging the insensate Wolverine toward the door.

Suspended in the middle of the room at least a foot off the floor, Jean began to spin slowly in place. Her hair was flying around her head like there was hurricane in the still room. Ruby droplets flew through space as she drove her fingernails into her palms, shrieking incoherently.

She knew she was going to lose, her attacker was just too powerful. Jean had expected a sudden blow, not the subtle, sinister attack for which she had little preparation. She lashed out with her hands, projecting her frustration in telekinetic blasts. 

Scott stopped dragging Logan momentarily as the furniture in the room began randomly detonating. After the second blast, he realized that she wasn't interested in them. He again started tugging at the incredibly heavy man; they were almost there.

Logan was returning to consciousness as they had reached the doorway. Stray papers, scraps of cloth and tiny crimson droplets were swirling around Jean as she spun, and deep in his heart, he was afraid _for_ her as he was _of_ her.

Finally she felt it, the long finger that had made it all the way, penetrated her in a way that intimate didn't begin to describe. She had reasoned that it had to be him - no one else had the power to beat her. No one else had the power. She shuddered and let out an ear shattering scream as he dipped into her liquid core.

Scott was looking back from the hallway, taking one last glance at his beloved and hated wife, when the room went still and she screamed in a way that tore his heart. Logan stirred beneath him, struggling to go to her even now. He easily held the older man back, so weakened with wounds now mending.

*You've gone too far.* The deep, masculine voice resonated in her head like her skull was a giant antenna.

"No, he is _my_ dog!" she shouted into the empty room.

*No, Logan is _my_ pet. Scott is _my_ pet,* the voice was insistent, powerful.

"No! they are mine, all mine!" she screamed at him.

*Jean, _you_ are my pet as well," the voice explained coldly.

"No," she whispered. "No."

"I will not allow you to damage them. I need them, functional, able to do _my_ bidding. You have displeased me."

She hung in the air, suddenly hanging limp. Scott's heart trembled, wondering if she was dying.

Logan had returned to consciousness and he helped the man struggle to his feet. He could barely stumble away, and blood still ran down his legs from the violation. Scott watched as he fell heavily onto a library table, his weight snapping it in half, an antique vase smashing on the floor. He silently prayed that his… lover was alright, and sighed in relief as Wolverine fought back to his feet and struggled on. 

Scott knew he couldn't leave. He wasn't sure if he could ever leave her. He forced himself to go back into the room, flipping the door closed behind him. 

"You cannot control me!" she hissed defiantly.

She was suddenly animated again, resisting the manipulation Charles was attempting in her mind. Her words shook the very air, producing cracks in the ceiling.

*Oh, yes, I _can_, child,* Charles whispered in the back of her mind. She shivered at his certainty. 

She could feel him reaching out, far beyond the mansion, connecting, electric, powerful beyond her ability to conceive. She felt it coming, and knew she could do nothing about it. She let out a single hoarse shriek as he dumped distilled pain into her mind, the pain of the dying, the injured, the sick. It was a flood she couldn't stem - it filled her, then overflowed her mind. Her body convulsed, like she had touched a live wire. An instant later, everything went black.

Scott listened to her shriek, panicking, still bleeding from the welts she had given him, then he watched her fall an instant later. 

"Jean!," he screamed. His heart stopped as he watched her slump, boneless, onto the floor. 

He crawled to her across the carpet, not able to stand. His hands and shins were cut from the wood splinters and the broken glass, but he had to get to her. Carefully, he lifted her head into his lap and he cried over her, gently touching her beautiful, terrible face.

She couldn’t be dead. Charles wouldn’t have killed her, not his daughter, not his wife. He sobbed for his pain, for her pain, for the mockery that the virus had made of his stunning, selfless healer now made selfish and sadistic. From the instant that he had seen her, he knew that he’d always be by her side. Even now, he couldn’t resist her. He couldn’t give up. 

He hadn't know how long he'd been there when she opened her eyes, but he was stunned when he saw _his_ Jean looking back. Not entirely, but his heart soared because he knew that she was still in there somewhere. 

"Hey," she breathed, a slight smile when she realized it was him. Her expression darkened as she really looked at him, and she reached up and touched the wounds on his face. "I..."

"Shhhhhh," he whispered, unable to resist touching her lips with his fingers. He lowered his head and kissed her sweetly, tasting blood and Jean. His heart sang.

When he pulled back, he could see that _his_ Jean was fading, her eyes becoming more and more vacant. He wanted to cry, hit something, but he knew he had to be strong for her. She was still in there and he needed her back.

"Did I give you permission to kiss me," he heard her whisper. A chill, bone deep, ran down his spine. 

* * *  
Charles sipped some Earl Grey, as he though about Jean. 

The virus had significantly altered her mind. It was fascinating, but he couldn't let it go any longer.

Until this evening, her little games with Scott and Logan had been tolerable. He had given her free reign because she kept the boys in line, and their minds occupied. The property damage was inconsequential in the big picture, and the rest of the Mansion now feared all of his senior staff. 

Exactly as it should be.

But her actions tonight had been extreme, crossing the line. He knew that she would never really hurt Scott, but she had gone much to far with Wolverine. Her anger and jealousy was controlling her, and he could not afford for her to be out of control. Not with the storm brewing.

He almost regretted modifying her mind. She had become quite a weapon. But she had never been built for that, and she was headed down the path of self-destruction. It had only taken a few moments to adjust her mind when she was unconscious. Everyone would be better off. She was still deadly, but she wouldn't harm Logan any more. He'd sensed the Canadian's fascination with the new man, LeBeau, and Jean's memories had confirmed that the feeling was mutual. Her jealousy had been overwhelming, another product of the virus. With Logan out of her bedroom, and a few new mental prohibitions, Scott should be able to keep her well entertained. He would get his field commander restored to full functionality, and his chief trainer wouldn’t be sliced to ribbons on a nightly basis. 

Well, not unless he asked LeBeau to do it. Charles smiled a dark smile to himself, absently running his fingers along his rapidly healing ribs. The Goddess’ scratches were wicked, but not deep. 

He leaned back in his comfortable chair, the leather creaking pleasantly, and he closed his eyes, letting the music that played in the back of his head come forward. He started to drift, out into that space between the stars, dreaming of the new world he would bring.


End file.
